“Do you assemble the ships yourself?”
“No, I don’t have the patience for that.”
Milo snorted. “Fair. I doubt I would either. Is there a specific era you’re collecting?”
“They are all famous British ships, from across time. I love the Tudor era, so anything from that time is a bonus, but some of those can be harder to find.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it, that everyone is fascinated with a king from five hundred years ago because he married six women and executed two of them?”
“There is more to the Tudor period than just Henry the eighth.”
“Are you a professor or something?”
Edward chuckled. “No, nothing like that.”
“Sorry.”
“What for?”
“I shouldn’t be asking you a question like that. It just slipped out.”
“It’s okay. I wish I could tell you something, but ...”
“You don’t need to explain anything. I’d better get going anyway.”
Milo got up. Edward hated this part, but it was the arrangement they had. They didn’t have each other’s phone numbers, and they only communicated through the app. Edward hadn’t met up with anyone else since he’d first met Milo. He wondered if Milo had done the same, and then shook away thoughts like that. They had amazing sexual chemistry, but Milo didn’t know what Edward looked like. He might not even fancy him if he saw him. Milo looked younger than he was, based on his picture, but Edward was the opposite. Politics was a job that aged you. When he first took the Deputy PM job five years earlier, he didn’t have a single grey hair. Now there was far more salt than pepper. Why would someone as vibrant as Milo want anything more than sex with an old man?
Edward was having a drink at the bar, which was surprisingly busy. It was December, and the gays were ready to party.
“What are you looking miserable for? You don’t look like a guy who’s just about to get railed,” said Derek. “Are you thinking about Milo? Or his cock?”
“Be quiet, will you?” he hissed.
“Nobody can hear us here. I repeat what I said last week... you should step away from this before you get in any deeper than you already have. I don’t want to see you get hurt, or Milo for that matter. He’s a nice kid.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve spoken to him when he’s come here to meet you.”
“How?”
“He grabs a bottle of water on his way out. I’ve served him a few times. You know I can read people well.”
“Does he hang around?”
“No, Eddie. He’s respectful of your privacy.”
“I’ll be fine. I know it’s just sex. If things were different, who knows, but they’re not.”
Edward knew his best friend didn’t believe a word of what he’d just said. With Milo it felt like more than sex, but it wasn’t a relationship. What was it, then? All Edward knew was that meeting up with Milo was the highlight of his week. It was all he could think about most of the time, and when neither of them could make it, he’d be in a foul mood. Something people had pulled him up on. The PM had asked him why he was so grumpy one day and another he looked like he’d won the lottery. He needed to work on his poker face, which was usually bang on, but there was something about Milo that made him giddy.
The sex was always amazing, but Edward loved their chats afterwards even more. Every time they talked about mundane crap he felt closer to Milo. They didn’t talk about their respective work, for obvious reasons. They’d even taken to watching the same TV show and talking about it afterwards, or reading the latest spicy read from their favourite authors. How long could they keep this arrangement going before Milo got bored? He could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want to be with someone he had to meet in secret?
“For fuck’s sake, Eddie, just come out. Most people won’t care.”
“I can’t. We’ll end up with Hargreaves as PM.”
“That will not happen.”
